


Even Death May Die

by WarlordFelwinter



Series: Destiny / OC-centric [16]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 05:05:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15942371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlordFelwinter/pseuds/WarlordFelwinter
Summary: Setesh finds himself with bizarre company after losing the Light.(poetry is from Lovecraft's 'The Nameless City' and 'A Garden')





	Even Death May Die

“Setesh!” 

Nebthet’s terrified shout was the last thing the Hunter heard as the Light was ripped from him. The sudden void sent him reeling, stumbling backward, rocks crumbling. He felt himself falling as his vision went black. 

In the darkness, he dreamt. Visions of a desert of black sand. Ghostly spires that rose and fell with the shifting dunes. A sky filled with fire and thunder. Shadowed creeping monsters that whispered on the edge of his hearing. 

Setesh awoke slowly, his voice slipping unbidden from his throat. 

“That is not dead which can eternal lie…” he mumbled. 

_ “And with strange aeons even death may die.” _

Setesh opened his eyes and his vision slowly focused. He was laying on his back, painfully splayed over rocks. He couldn’t tell how many bones were broken, or just bruised, but everything hurt. 

“Nebby?” He sat up and gently cupped a hand around his Ghost. She was in his lap, her Light extinguished. “Neb!” He gathered her up, frightened. He couldn’t feel anything. No Light. The Light was gone. Nebthet was gone.

Setesh looked up, seeing the light of day far above him. He didn’t think he could climb back up. When he looked further into the darkness, he could smell fresh air. 

“Okay,” he said to himself, trying to focus. “First things first, we need to get out of this cave.” He tucked Nebthet safely into a pocket in his scarf and pulled a flashlight out of his belt pouch, clicking it on. “Once we get back home we can worry about the Light.” 

He took a deep breath and headed into the darkness.

_ “A resevoir of darkness black…” _

“After effects of losing the Light,” he wondered aloud. “Or I’m finally going insane, we knew it was bound to happen eventually,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. Nebthet didn’t reply. He missed her voice already.

A boot slipped and Setesh looked down at the sloping tunnel floor. It seemed carved, almost, like a stairway. He must have fallen into an old tomb. He paused and took a journal out of his tunic, holding his flashlight in his teeth while he scribbled down the location for proper exploration later. 

_ “Down through that chasm I saw beneath…” _

Setesh tensed, looking around. 

He tucked his journal away and pulled the flashlight from his mouth. He kept walking, ducking a little as the tunnel narrowed. It kept going downward and the air around him got colder and colder until his breath fogged in front of him, and still a faint breeze beckoned him downward. 

_ “With that dark pitch the Sea of Death; throws out upon its slimy shore…” _

“Who’s reading poetry at me,” Setesh murmured. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was losing it. Maybe he’d hit his head too hard when he’d fallen down that crevice. 

A breeze ghosted past him and he smelled vegetation and damp earth. He clicked the flashlight off and closed his eyes, letting them adjust. When he opened them again, he could see a faint glow ahead. Daylight, perhaps. He felt along the narrow tunnel, having to turn sideways and squeeze through the last few meters. 

Setesh emerged into a massive grotto. Impossibly far above him he could see a hint of sunlight. The cavern was mostly lit from bioluminescent plants and fungi. A stream ran through, it’s babbling echoing and magnified off the rocky walls, giving the impression of voices whispering at the edges of the light. 

Set sat down heavily on a rock, staring up at the distant sky. Not a tomb. But who had carved the stairs? 

“That is not dead which can eternal lie,” he mused aloud. “What does it mean? Could it be a reference to the Traveler? Maybe the things I’m hearing have something to do with why the Light is gone.” 

“That is not dead which can eternal lie; and in strange aeons even death may die,” a new voice murmured. 

Setesh leapt up, drawing his dagger and spinning around, coming face to face with a man who had snuck silently up behind him. He wore ragged travelling robes with a long scarf piled around his neck. A Ghost hovered over his shoulder in a battered shell, its eye a sly, dim yellow. 

“Where did you come from?” Set demanded. 

“Can you feel it?” the man said. “The Light’s gone cold. Those blinded by it are left floundering in the dark.” 

“Who are you?” 

“The veil between realities is thin here,” the man murmured, moving away, toward a spindly tree that grew up toward the distant light. Setesh watched him go, suspicious. None of this felt right, but he recognized the man’s voice. It was a voice that been whispering in his ear since he woke up. He was less and less certain he had actually woken up and this wasn’t some bizarre dream. This strange creature could be a figment. An avatar for something else to speak through. The Traveler, perhaps. Or something darker. 

“How did you get down here?” Setesh asked. “Is there another entrance?” 

“Doors exist in all things if you know how to look.” 

Set sighed. “All right… Do you think you could be less vague?” 

The man circled around the tree. He chuckled lowly. “I’m not being vague, you simply don’t understand how to listen.” 

“Of course,” Set said. He headed in the other direction. There had to be another entrance, unless this man had also fallen in. Either way, he didn’t want to be stuck in this grotto with an esoteric creep for the rest of his life. And if it was a dream then nothing he did would matter. 

As he approached the other side of the cavern, the other man appeared, seeming to meld out of the shadows. He smiled a dark smile. 

“Doors. What did I tell you?” His voice was a soft rumble, like distant thunder. The threat of a storm. He circled Setesh and the Hunter held his breath, meeting his gaze. His eyes were a startling green, set in an angular face framed by dark, lawless hair. His skin was dark, a little lighter than Set’s, though it had a strange undertone to it, suggesting he spent far too much time underground out of the sight of the sun. He would be handsome if it weren’t for the wild look in his eyes. The irises were so verdant green, but the sclera were black. 

Setesh had a sudden certainty that this was real and that he was in a great deal of danger. Shadows reached out, tendrils blurring the man’s outline as he backed away and was eaten up by the darkness. 

“There’s an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,” a whisper came from behind Set and he turned, seeing nothing. The voice moved. 

“Where the very maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams,” he purred. “Where the gaudy tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey; and the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday.” 

Set inhaled sharply and turned, throwing his dagger out and laying the blade at the man’s throat. The mysterious figure smiled like a wolf cornering an injured rabbit. He lifted a hand and opened it, offering something to Setesh. He glanced down and saw three small glowing spiders. He narrowed his eyes. 

“Three. No more. No less. You will see the doors.” He grabbed Set’s free hand and deposited the spiders into it and wandered away again, humming quietly to himself. 

“What do I do with them?” Set asked. 

“The universe is naught but hunger,” the man muttered. “Devour them as they would devour you, given the chance.” 

Set stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. Either he was dreaming or someone was playing a distressingly elaborate prank on him. He looked down at the spiders in his hand and wondered if he had much of a choice. If this man was telling the truth then maybe this would show him an exit. Or it was poison. Without the Light… without Nebthet… if he died there would be no coming back. But without Nebthet there wasn’t much he wanted to live for, either. If the Light ever came back and she woke up, she could find him here. 

With that thought, he licked the spiders off his hand and swallowed. Within seconds he felt unsteady. The ground tilted and his vision blurred. Whispers pounded in his head; a thousand voices speaking dead languages. He felt certain he was dying. 

And then it all settled and he opened his eyes and  _ saw _ . The shadows melted away, as if the grotto was lit by bright sunlight. Tendrils of dark and light curled around the tree and snaked through the water. Here and there were shifting doorways. 

Setesh looked at his strange companion and saw the shadows weaving around his form. The blackness in his eyes seemed to glow. 

“There are places like this all around the solar system. Confluences, where the barriers are weak.” He pointed past Setesh to a doorway. “That will find you the way out, back to your nameless city.” 

Set looked at the doorway for a moment and then glanced at the man, puzzled. “Who are you? If you’re a City exile you don’t need to worry. A lot of exiles pass through my land.” 

“There is a lot in the desert that attracts such people,” he murmured. “Including you, Setesh, lord of darkness. A presumptuous name, but perhaps now it fits you better. Your eyes are open, you may see the truth of the world.” He paused and blinked, expression inscrutable. “I am Alhazred.” 

“Are you coming with me, Alhazred?” Setesh asked, gesturing toward the doorway. He was electing to ignore the fact that Alhazred knew his name without Set telling him. 

“A creature made of death lives like the dead,” Alhazred said, turning away. “As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find; when it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind…” 

“Right…” Set said, and stepped through the doorway. He felt a horrible rending and twisting and staggered out into the empty sands. The sunlight burned his eyes and he hissed, pulling his hood over his head. The shadows helped only a little and he staggered, half-blind, to the shelter of rocks. He curled up, face hidden beneath his arms, to wait until nightfall. 

When it came, he saw easily, despite the moonless sky. There were patterns in the stars that he had never seen before. Pathways and secrets he couldn’t hope to understand. He walked through the desert, aware of shapes moving in his periphery. When he looked at them, they went out of focus, but he knew they were there. Ghosts or creatures that walked on another plane. He kept his gaze forward, quickening his step until he was sprinting toward the distant lights. 

Another Risen--Ima--met him at the gate and he could see in her a void where the Light should be. It hadn’t only been him, then. 

“Setesh,” she said, relieved. “You’ve been gone for days, we were afraid…” 

_ Days?  _

Had he been underground so long?

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You look… hunted.” 

“Ghosts,” he said. “Nothing more.” 

He walked past her and into the temple, sliding through the shadow paths to his room where he confronted his reflection. He was scrawny and filthy and his edges were soft with shadow. He leaned closer and found his eyes glowed black and gold. 

He sat down on his bed and pulled Nebthet’s lifeless shell from his scarf, setting her gently on the pillow. When he looked at her with his strange vision, he could see some light pulsing deep within.

“Oh, Nebby, what have I done? What have I given myself to?” he whispered. He closed his eyes, trying to find any hint of Light within himself. Was the Traveler dead? Could that even happen? The Light was gone. How was he still here? As far as he knew, he had only ever been a corpse, animated by the Light. A dead thing made from death. 

_ “That is not dead which can eternal lie; and with strange aeons even death may die.” _

**Author's Note:**

> listen there's some lovecraftian bullshit in forsaken, it was time for alhazred to come back


End file.
